Destination
by Lupiesden
Summary: There are many roads for a person to walk, but for Rosette, they all will lead to the same person in the end.
1. Thirty Nine Winks

_Sunlight was filtering through the stained-glass windows of the church, throwing delicate colours on the wooden floor that three teens were scrubbing away at. The youngest-looking, a girl with long, white hair, sighed as she came upon yet another footprint._

"_Rosette, you stepped in a wet patch again."_

"_Yeah, well, everywhere's wet! Where am I meant to step?" Rosette asked, giving her a mock angry look, "besides, if it weren't for my kind offer of help, a third of this church would still be filthy!"_

_Their other companion, a young boy, slapped his forehead._

"_It's your fault we're here in the first place! If you hadn't, Sister Kate's bookshelf..." he trailed off, seeing the glint in Rosette's eye. Rosette then smirked._

"_Well that's fine then, isn't it?" With that, she picked up the soap she was using and rubbed it into his purple hair._

"_Oh! Rosette! You're mean!" cried the other girl, and tossed her sponge at the cackling nun._

_Rosette gasped as the cold water hit her face, soapy water trickling into her mouth._

"_That's it!" she cried, picking up the sponge and giving her attacker a death glare. She looked mortified, her hands at her mouth. Then burst into laughter when Rosette made a bubble while talking. Rosette hurled the sponge at her head, her aim perfect. She ducked, and instead it flew into the face of the boy. Rosette roared with laughter as he sloshed water onto the white-haired girl._

"_What was that for?" she cried, picking up the sponge._

"_You weren't wet yet, " he replied, grinning._

_The water fight that ensued somehow made the church dirtier than when they began, and Rosette didn't even seem to mind the fact they would have to wash it again. Laughing, she lay on the wet floor with her friends, enjoying the moment. The girl was laughing exuberantly, while the boy sighed, looking at his damp braid. Rosette punched him on the shoulder._

"_Don't worry!" she said, grinning, "when Sister Kate puts us on gardening for this, it'll dry in no time!"_

_He smiled, that warm, happy smile she loved._

"_Thanks_ -Rosette!" The last word wasn't his voice. Nor was it near the volume his voice was. But Rosette knew it anyway. She groaned.

"Come on! Wake up Rosette!" The cheerful voice of her brother jerked her up off the pillows. Her nice, comfy pillows. On her big, soft bed with it's warm, lovely blankets. Wake up? Nah.

Rosette gave a contented sigh as she flopped back down in bed, ignoring Joshua's renewed attempts to get her up. He growled when she rolled over, completely covering her face from the window he'd just opened.

"Fine, you're asking for it." Joshua left her room, his footsteps fading almost instantly. Rosette laughed, but a strange feeling was pulling at her. Anxiousness. Why was she anxious? Rosette wondered. Sighing into her pillow, she put it down to the fact it was Monday, and she had French first thing. Seriously, bonjour, tu tapelle comment? Blah blah blah. It was all gibberish to her. French, had to be it.

Rosette shrieked as icy water was dumped all over her head. Sitting bolt upright, she locked her furious gaze on her brother, standing beside her bed clutching a bucket. And grinning from ear-to-ear.

"You." said Rosette quietly, swinging her legs out, "are. Dead." Joshua took the hint and scurried out as fast as he could, Rosette charging behind him. Upon reaching the bathroom, however, she took a detour and screeched, "Mum! Joshua doused me!" Slamming the door behind her, she snatched up a towel and dried herself thoroughly. She then stood for several minutes, pondering over the perfect murder weapon for her dear little brother.

Joshua's eyes widened as Rosette stepped into his room, armed with a hairy brush and very, very dated tea tree shampoo. The stuff their mum used when there was a lice epidemic at their primary school years ago.

"What's that smell?" Rosette smiled sweetly at her mother's question.

"Nothing, Mum," she said, stuffing waffles into her mouth at an unbelievable pace. Joshua smiled nervously, picking at his own food. Their mother raised her eyebrows over this, but decided to say nothing of it. Yet. She really didn't like the way Joshua had his hair this morning.

"Ahh!" Rosette slapped her full stomach, "thanks Mum!"

"You're welcome, honey," she replied, handing her her schoolbag, "now you two should get going, you'll be late otherwise."

"Oh yeah, I'd _hate_ to miss French and get a _horrible_ detention," Rosette lamented, ignoring an uncomfortable squirm in her gut. She knew it wasn't the detention she'd probably get anyway, late or no, it had to be the French lesson waiting for her.

"Well, you can't call that scrubbing business fun, Rosette," her mother said gently, "Mr. Lambden was very upset."

"Yeah, you had soap everywhere!" Joshua giggled. Rosette growled and yanked him off his seat, collecting his schoolbag on the way out.

Still, even as she yawned in the passenger seat as her brother made his slow way to school, she couldn't shake of the feeling in her stomach, twisting and writhing as her body worried over some unknown thing.

Nah, it was school.

It had to be school, right?


	2. Watching and Waiting

Nights like this. He enjoyed nights like this.

Nights where the street lights did nothing to penetrate the shadows in the alleys, nights where even the lowest of murmuring could be heard, or even the shifting of a weapon under someone's jacket. Nights where the targets jumped at any movement on the edges of their vision, when they swung around at any small scuffle. Never bothering to remember they weren't fast enough anyway, nor their weapons powerful enough.

Nights like this were easy and hard at the same time.

The men he was watching, following, moved quickly with practised movements, hauling their illegal load. Bundle after bundle was sealed below the floor of a truck, and now crates were slowly being brought up.

It was too obvious.

He decided not to move just yet; these thugs were pretty slow, and the police were going to arrive soon. This stake was just too easy really.

The men began whispering, and his highly trained ears picked up every word.

"Hey, let's get this stuff outta here, we've got all hell breakin' loose at the house."

"Serious? You mean the cops already got the place?!"

"Nah, but they're close."

"Man, did ya hear? Morro said that the Parks were arrested already."

"Not as bad as the Hills, they wouldn't give themselves up, guess what happened?"

There was a tense silence.

"Listen," one of them said, leaning in slightly, "those cops couldn't catch those guys, not the Parks. Those Parks were way too good, too smart and organised. It had to be an inside job."

There was some uneasy muttering among his fellows.

Maybe it was about time to make his move. These guys were thick, and they had weapons.

"Wait, you sayin' that any one of us guys could be a rat?" The speaker's hand flew inside his jacket; it wasn't long before everyone else did.

These guys were _really_ thick, _and_ they had weapons. He was slightly worried. Not the handguns they had out would do much harm to him, he didn't want a firefight breaking out on a mission this low-scale.

He landed silently; he would never admit it, but he oddly liked the look of surprise when his targets realised he'd been watching them, without a single bit of evidence of the fact.

*

*

*

Mark "Switch" Coley had been in this job for awhile, investigating, waiting, arresting, interrogating. And the occasional fight when things got aggressive. He was known as Switch for his tendency to change personality during his arrests and interrogations, confusing criminals and police alike. He could be submissive and shy one moment, aggressive and blunt the next. Some said it was an interrogation tactic, others said it was bi-polar disorder.

But everyone knew his true personality; a firm and good-hearted man, with a very strong sense of justice and uncanny knack to see straight through a person's everyday facade and straight into their true emotions.

But right now, he was quite fustrated.

"He's moving, you guys better hurry up." Switch waited, listening to the crackly response.

"Only Partol 14, Patrol 8 and 10 should be on their usual route. He won't take violent action for this job." Another response from the police unit. The hum of his own car made him want to sped off himself.

Switch sighed, rubbing his temples. They still didn't trust the outside man, and couldn't understand why Switch did. They didn't trust the man that had already caught them three dangerous drug rings and foiled a terrorist movement. Without leaving any evidence of the fact he'd had a part. Except for babbling criminals.

All of the criminals and terrorists Chrno caught had been either extremely well-organised gangs or important links to other criminal activities. He'd caught them with stealth, cunning and intelligence, and with as little casualties as possible. He'd nabbed more people in his month of service than most police would do in their careers.

That's what made them so suspicious, even more so that plenty of them hadn't even _seen_ Chrno. There were plenty of rumours that he was baiting them with smaller gangs and rings, drawing their attention away from a bigger picture.

You had to agree there was some thought behind it, but Switch couldn't believe that the strange man he'd met but a month ago would be accepted by his colleagues even if they met him, let alone suspicious and warped criminal gangs.

*

*

*

"I swear! That guy is nuts! He came at us with this steel, spine-like thing! It was twisting all over the place!"

The policeman cuffing him rolled his eyes. _Spine-like._ All the thugs they'd arrested were saying things like that.

Weird things, and even weirder things.

_'He dodged our bullets! When he got shot he ignored it! He had these huge claws! He came out of nowhere, seriously NOWHERE! He came from the sky! I swear!"_

All the cops chuckled at that one. _They must be still high on crack,_ they all told each other, laughing._ He'd have to have wings or something for that, _they joked, but they all knew no-one had wings. They hadn't met their outside guy, all they knew was he stepped up from bounty hunting, but there was no way _wings_ came into the mix.

No-one had wings.

*

*

*

Switch picked up the file from the passenger seat, flicking through it. Everything was there. He put it down on his lap, and couldn't help but think about how old his car was, with all it's creaks and shudders. It was parked in a side street, just in the shadows. A good spot. Switch checked his watch; his car clock had busted weeks ago. 1:19 am, just ticking over to twenty past.

He was never late.

As if almost on cue, the passenger door squeaked open, and a tall man seated himself next to Switch. The door gave a loud screech as he shut it.

"You really need to get that fixed," his visitor said quietly. He studied the detective for a second, then relaxed.

"You're not one for small talk," Switch replied, handing him the file. He clasped it in his hands, as if it were something precious. A habit of his Switch would never understand.

"Thankyou," he said softly. He never seemed to speak any louder than an average level. He handed over a tape.

"Are you kidding?" Switch replied, "those guys are the missing link for our gang. We'll have them in no time. None of my guys would've got them half as good."

"Another job?"

"Well, yes. But I'm on to something with the Order, I'll have those documents within the week, I'm sure."

"Good," said the man, reaching for the door handle, "Central next time?"

Switch nodded, "Yes, and it'll be an afternoon briefing." They'd sorted out times weeks ago, so if anyone happened to hear them, they would get hardly anything from it. The tall man stepped out, giving the alley a brief glance.

"I'll be there." He checked the file with quick fingers.

"I trust that everything is in here." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Yes, but I'll have the bulk on the Order next time."

"I think I'll take that job," was the reply, before the speaker disappeared into the shadows.

"I know you will, Chrno," Switch said, sorrow in his voice.


	3. Pilot

**Note: If you're wondering, I am alternating between Rosette and Chrno for the ways their stories are heading. It will hopefully be consistent, but I might have consecutive chapters focusing on just one of them.**

**Thankyou for reading, and thanks to Whispering Lotus for the reviews! It makes it worthwhile to know someone actually likes it. =)**

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_Branches whipped and snapped, trunks shuddering and creaking. Wind screamed high and low, picking up all manner of things; leaves, fruit, twigs, grasses and a yellow ribbon, all tumbling and swirling around. A young boy, his purple hair flying around his face, chased after his yellow possession, quickly untangling it from a low-lying branch. He scurried into a small brick building, pulled in by a gloved hand the moment he pushed the wooden door._

"_'Bout time you showed up!" Rosette snapped, giving him a hard yank inside. Rain lashed the windows furiously, rattling the panes. It was a close call. She gave another yank._

"_Rosette!" he yelped, rubbing his throat._

"_Well, you should be more careful!" she growled, hiding just how relieved she was. She glanced outside, grimacing. It was difficult to see the Order buildings in all the rain, or anything at all for that matter._

_It was the kind of weather that made you forget what sunny days looked like, or even sunlight._

_As if reading her thoughts, lightning flared and struck, and the thunder almost made her cover her ears at the noise. Almost. She had her pride._

_That ideal was soon smashed when a lightning bolt stuck a tree near the Elder's Hut. Rosette jumped several feet into the air_ and gave a high-pitched shriek.

"Blahh! Rosette!" Joshua smacked her over the head with the paper he'd been reading.

"Hey, it's your fault for letting me fall asleep!" Rosette cried, hiding the fact she still felt shaken from the dream she'd had. She almost expected to see rain belting the windows, but instead, a cheerful sun reigned in the sky. Joshua gave her a scornful look, before returning to his essay.

Oh, that's why she'd fallen asleep. Homework. That not-so-small pile of assignments and study awaiting her. Rosette growled, pulling the closest paper towards her. It was a partly finished essay about liberty.

"You Year 11's are so lucky! You get hardly anything!"

"Well, if you'd actually worked on it, that pile would get smaller."

"Obviously! But yours is small to begin with! We Year 12's," Rosette replied, "have heaps!"

Joshua gave her a gentle look that was meant to calm her down. It didn't. Why didn't he yell and rage just like her? Whatever. Rosette grabbed a pen and pretended to know what she was doing, scribbling furiously.

"Rosette?"

Oh great, his voice is calm too.

"What is your dream?"

That made her stop. What was her dream? Did she even know?

"My dream?" _Oh. My. God._ Rosette thought; her voice was shaking slightly. She'd never live this down if he noticed.

"You know, what you aspire to, who you plan to be, how you wish to live your life.'

He sounded way too serious for Rosette's liking, especially when she was caught off guard like this.

"What is my dream? I- I think..." What did she think? She needed time. "Well what's yours then?"

"I want to explore."

Oh great, he had an answer already.

"An explorer?"

"Yes. I want to see new places. All places."

He was so sure. Rosette tried to remember. She knew she had dream, it was there, flitting on the edges of her thoughts. She just couldn't pin it down. There was something else.

"I'm not sure, but exploration sounds good. But how is that a job, exactly?"

"I was thinking about that... I could be a pilot, they see lots of places, but I really just want to be an explorer. I should be a scientist, like a biologist or zoologist, they would definitely go places for their research."

Rosette nodded, but her thoughts were slightly elsewhere. A pilot. Flying seemed good, very good. _Would you need excellent grades for that? s_he wondered, mulling it over, _could you do it on my grades?_

"See ya," Rosette said, standing up and reaching for her jacket.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk, I need to get away from all this homework!" With that, she flew out the door, into the glorious afternoon sun.

"But you haven't even done any," Joshua muttered, staring at the few lines of gibberish she'd added to her essay.

*

*

*

A light breeze played with Rosette's hair as she strolled down the street, the golden strands gently lifting off her back. Her thoughts tumbled around in her head, just like the wisps on her back, turning and shifting, never in the spot she wanted.

A pilot. To _fly_. It held a certain appeal, a strange tug that pulled her mind and body towards the idea. But would her heart and soul be in it? Rosette listened to her heart and soul a lot more, they seemed more important, and always knew exactly what she wanted.

Still, the very idea of flying made her feelings lift, and it seemed like a very satisfying thing to do. There would be rules and regulations, of course, and probably frustrating, snobbish passengers and employers.

That wouldn't go well.

Rosette, wrapped up in her thoughts, didn't notice as her feet took her round a corner, straight into a young man leaning on a pole. Her nose bumped into his arm, and her eyes instantly snapped up into his scowling face, her cheeks turning scarlet.

"So- sorry! I didn't mean to-" Rosette stuttered to a halt when the stranger raised his hand.

"That's fine," he said crisply, "you can go now."

That sounded so much like an order that Rosette frowned. But after simply glancing at him again; a tall man with wild black hair, a hard face, and long slender limbs, she memorised, she set off again, allowing her thoughts to engulf her again.

A pilot. Flying.

_What would it be like,_ she mused, _to fly?_

**Okay, hopefully I'll stay in my writing mood, I'm normally quite slow at finishing chapters and one-shots, so it's actually really strange for me to finish this and the previous 2 chapters so fast. Sorry if this seems a little slow-moving, but that's just my writing style, heh.**

**I'll accept any constructive criticism you have for me, and I hope you enjoy reading this fic.**

**Thanks, Lupiesden.**


	4. Longing

**Author Blathering Spot: Hey reader(s) Hopefully the next two chapters will shed a bit of light on what is actually going on in this little fic of mine. A Chrno chapter. Enjoy!**

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

The Backwash District, as it was not-so-affectionately known as to locals and outsiders alike, was named after it's distinct habit of receiving anyone and everyone that had been rejected by most other areas. Dilapidated apartment buildings and dingy stores lined the streets, the narrow alleys in between overflowing with rubbish and stolen goods. None of this, however, stopped the daily bustling of all the residents of The Backwash, and yet again Chrno was forced to push and duck every so often as he made his way along the crowded streets. _New York_, he thought, _has sunk too low._ Still, he never even thought about leaving the city. He had too many ties here.

Car horns blared as traffic moved at a snails-pace, while bikes, scooters and motorcycles wove around the angry drivers. Ragged children dashed across the roads, playing their games and laughing at the people swearing at them from behind car windows. Chrno couldn't help but be angry at their stupidity, especially as most of the men yelling at them wouldn't care if they got ran over, even if they did it themselves. Life was far too important. The problem was that people didn't remember that any more.

Up ahead, Chrno noticed, a large group of people, mainly local teenagers, were crowded around the display of Harkin's Electrical Store, glued to the televisions broadcasting there. Most of them looked furious.

Had to be something good then. Slightly interested, Chrno stopped. A news program was showing on the ancient screens in the window.

"-haul of over 5 million worth of cocaine in the apartment alone, with later raids on warehouses and homes causing the confiscation of just over 500 million US dollars worth of illegal drugs. The crackdown has lead to even more leads, and Inspector Mark Coley is calling this a breakthrough in finally damaging drug dealings in New York." The newsreader was wearing a small smile as she spoke, a genuine one showing that she actually liked the news she was reading. That was rare these days.

Some of the louts surrounding the window gave angry mutters, glaring at the television screens as if they were personally responsible. A few flipped out cellphones they definitely hadn't paid for, speed-dialling and talking to their contacts in furious voices. News travelled fast in The Backwash, and the report of the drug bust would probably be fully circulating in about 5 minutes.

The district was also well known for it's shady dealings and businesses, with gangs ruling the streets and dodgy vendors in every alley. Chrno had picked to live around here; he'd realised it probably would be so much easier to keep a low profile if he was among the kind of people he targeted.

It had sort of worked out to plan. Sure, nothing had gone too astray, but his 'low profile' idea didn't work out quite how he wanted. He was actually well-known among the citizens of the district, it wasn't his appearance any more that made him stand out; lots of people today had strange hair colours and all sorts of clothes, but he was still noticed. To The Backwash, he was known as 'The Man.' It really didn't sound much at first, but none of the people that saw him walking along the streets knew anything about him.

Which was all part of his plan, but the air of mystery itself gave others a reason to be curious. And that meant Chrno had been followed, threatened, assaulted, and once, bugged, though very, very poorly bugged. Not that any of those things affected him. Which made the gangs terrified, and in turn, subtly aggressive toward him.

All the gangs did know was that he knew New York like the back of his own hand. They'd been told by their bosses that any attempts to shut him down had failed utterly, and that he was only ever seen walking. Which made them believe he was on to something.

Chrno also knew that they had no idea what side he was on, or if he even cared. And he also knew that most people would only have to mutter 'The Man' in conversation for the speakers to glance around surreptitiously and lower their voices. He just needed to show his face now and then to keep the ridiculous rumours flowing.

Because, truly, none of their speculation mattered.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

They were waiting for him. His files. Row upon row of files, all meticulously sorted in their cabinets, waiting.

For the research to begin. There were files on schools, organisations, councils, intelligence agencies, sports groups, work places. All connected to NY, and all centered on females. For the search for a certain one.

Switch had been extremely suspicious of Chrno's story when they'd first met in that fateful stakeout, but a search into very old records had confirmed the truth.

Switch was surprised when he'd read the 'official' document that pronounced Chrno executed, but shaken when he saw the aged photograph, taken so many years ago, at the San Francisco carnival. Especially when the smiling boy in the picture was standing next to him.

Chrno had always felt he'd needed to stay alive, a strange tether had kept him from returning to the Astral Lines. But before, it had only been a small pull, a gentle tug on his being. He'd always wondered whether it was Rosette helping him along, just as he'd felt Magdalene helping him along when he'd first met Rosette and Joshua in that mausoleum, decades ago.

The tug had been gentle for so long. Now something was pulling at him furiously, and his desperate longing was a driving force in his life.

If you could call it a life.

But the pull was incredible. It had taken him in it's grip just over 17 years ago, though it was less powerful then. It was not physical, but a thought and feeling that pulsed in his heart, soul and mind. Chrno very soon realised why he was so close to insanity with desolation and pain.

He needed her.

Of course, he always had, but now he knew in his being that she was _alive_. His Rosette. Not a replacement, not a similar person.

But her soul. Her soul reborn.

All he'd needed to do was find her.

Pulling himself up to his desk, Chrno began sorting some of the files he'd recently received from Switch. The job had been difficult even for him, but the files were important as Switch promised. The file itself was huge as it held information and details on the military and religious orders, and their many relations, respectively. With the Magdalene Order falling into both catagories.

Chrno had always felt, since he'd started his mission, that eventually the Order would come into Rosette's life, even if it hadn't yet. And once it did, he would know.

And nothing would stop him from getting her back.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

**Well, there you go! Another chapter done and dusted! The next chapter will be focused on Rosette, I look forward to writing that. =)**

**And to any NY readers, I'm sorry if I annoyed anyone, I've never been to NY but I know it hasn't sunk low. And The Backwash district isn't based off any part of NY I've heard about, its just pure imagination for the sake of my plot. **

**Hope you didn't fall asleep reading!**

**Lupiesden**


	5. Worry

**Hey everyone! I found this chapter a bit tricky to write, so if you have any advice for me, go ahead! I've mostly based this on the manga of Chrno Crusade, but I've taken a bit of the anime as well. But I do like the manga better.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Chrno Crusade. An amazing person named Daisuke Moriyama does, she made the whole epic creation of Chrno Crusade.**

"Wait, look at this one! That looks good huh?" Rosette pulled out the booklet from its stand, making a show of flourishing it in front of Claire and Mary. They were crowded around a display of job advertisements, umming and ahhing over the many choices. The school halls around them were almost emptied, giving Rosette the room to make her normal movements. Without injuring people.

Claire sucked in her cheeks, delicately selecting a brochure about teaching from the rack. Mary looked bored. She checked her nails while giving an excited Rosette exasperated glances. The blond girl was engrossed in a Navy flyer. Mary was actually hiding her true feelings; it was weird that Rosette would care so much about the future.

"Why do they need planes? They've got boats don't they?" Rosette asked about the Navy, her brow furrowed.

"Don't hurt yourself Rosette," Mary laughed, with Claire pointing out that it was a photo of an aircraft carrier. Rosette frowned. She shoved the Navy flyer back, studying an army booklet.

"How many is that, 45?" Claire asked.

"That proves you weren't paying attention," Mary drawled, "it's 48. 48 jobs that Rosette's brain can't handle. Ahh well, guess you can't win 'em all, but in ol' Rosie's case, any."

Rosette gave her a murderous glare, but, surprisingly, refrained from attacking her. Mary looked shocked. Claire looked worried. She bravely put the back of her hand on Rosette's forehead.

"Are you feeling well?"

For another shocking time, Rosette ignored their needling. Instead she stuffed several job booklets into her bag and stalked off, muttering about wasting her free period. Mary and Claire shared a glance.

"That's weird," Claire stated, "Rosette didn't take a swipe at you."

"Yeah," Mary replied, staring down the hall, "we need Beth."

*

*

*

It was very peaceful in the Study Room. With only a spattering of Year 12's sitting around, studying books and writing essays, the room was almost silent. Rosette normally hated the quiet, controlled atmosphere, but she found it very useful when she actually _wanted_ to study something. This, being Rosette Christopher, had only happened once before, when she'd found a very interesting book on the supernatural. She'd spent her whole free going over pages about ghosts, aliens, and spirits.

The stuff she was reading was a far cry from that.

"_So you're interested in joining the armed forces," _Rosette read quietly to herself, testing how the words sounded. _Hmm, was she? _She took out the other one. It was a booklet on the different intelligence agencies, and outlines of the different jobs that needed filling. Fighting and catching out bad guys sounded pretty good for her energetic, tough nature. She let herself sink into articles about Forensics and Agents. For some reason she really wanted to find something she liked, and she wanted it to happen _now_.

Pondering over stuff wasn't her thing. Running headfirst into it was.

So why was she so worried about what Joshua asked her?

*

*

*

The brown-haired girl glanced up from her books, giving Mary and Claire that glazed-eye stare that could only come from study. Beth was known as Rosette's best friend, and the girls knew that Rosette would be a lot less likely to throw something at her than themselves. Normally Rosette brushed off her problems, more likely chased them off. But when Rosette didn't even deign to throw a punch after a very obvious insult, something was up.

"We need you for a bit, Beth," said Mary, as sweetly as she could. Beth's eyebrows raised.

"We're not talking about homework," Claire interjected.

"We're worried about Rosette," Mary said, watching Beth's eyebrows disappear into her hair.

"Ah, well... why?" Beth said, perplexed.

"Because she seems a little... odd today," Mary said, "well, she's always been strange, but for the last couple of days... eh."

"Eh? Maybe it's exams," Beth replied, but she was clearing her books away, and heading back into the school.

"Why exactly are you so worried about Rosette all of a sudden?" Beth asked.

"Otherwise," said Mary, as she and Claire ushered Beth along the corridors "she can't be the nutter that makes us look better." This was a thinly veiled attempt to try and prove that she wasn't worried about Rosette. Judging from the others looks, it wasn't working.

*

*

*

Their attempts to find out what was troubling their friend had resulted in said friend yelling at them. As this was close to her usual self, Beth hatched a plan into getting Rosette feeling better. That meant an activity of some sort that really got Rosette riled up, and the only thing Beth could think of in such a short space of time was bowling. A sport that a lot of normal temperaments could get fired up over.

Which meant Rosette was definitely going to crack.

The place they were at was unfamiliar, but bright and well-serviced, with plenty of space for the friends and their antics. The usual place was out of the question now, since the owner had acquired a photo of Rosette, making it possible to ban her from the alley. Rosette had complained, _"it was only one lane!" _but they had to settle for something a bit farther from home.

As it turned out, Beth's plan was working perfectly. After missing out on three spares, and with only one pin away from a strike, Rosette was already frothing at the mouth.

Mary heaved her ball up and dropped it in the lane. It slowly rolled down, knocking over three pins.

"Great shot," Rosette laughed, happy that she wasn't losing. Mary frowned, and copied the movement of a bowler next to her. Spare.

"WHAT?!" Rosette cried. Mary smirked, gliding past her.

"You're losing."

"Don't worry about it," Beth said gently, before bowling a strike. She was a very good bowler and the others had guessed that she had an ulterior motive bringing them here. Rosette swung up from her seat and glared at her ball, sitting innocently in it's rack.

"Okay, ball, we're getting a strike." Rosette chucked it down the lane. It span around crazily, knocking over nine pins. The last one swung a bit, before settling, standing up. Rosette's veins could be seen on her forehead.

"I'LL SHOW YOU, PIN!" She roared, throwing the ball right down the lane. With this astonishing burst of strength, it didn't land until halfway, giving a resounding 'BOOM' and shaking the last pin a bit.

Then the ball glided past it, leaving it mocking her.

Mary and Claire were falling off their seats with laughter, and Beth couldn't help but giggle at Rosette's red face. They all started to roll on the floor when Rosette ran right up the lane, setting alarms off, and began kicking at the pin.

The manager wasn't happy at all afterwards. He glared at them as he handed them their score sheet, and then snatched their shoes away without a word. Beth pulled Rosette away before she could go off for his rudeness, still shaking with laughter. All the way Beth drove them home, Rosette ranted about shoddy service and dodgy lanes, with Mary making sly comments about Rosette's bowling ability.

It seemed, for now, Rosette was back to normal.

Beth dropped off Rosette last. By now she'd cooled off a bit.

"Thanks Beth, that was fun," Rosette said cheerfully, "though next time, we'll have to go to a proper alley. And tape Mary's mouth shut."

Beth smiled and walked up with Rosette to her front door. Rosette started at that.

"You don't need to walk me up, Beth," Rosette said crossly, "it's not like you're my boyfriend on a first date or something." Beth shrugged.

"Ah well, I'll see you tomorrow. Are you ready for a hard study day?"

Beth was surprised when Rosette chewed her lip instead of answering. Something was definitely wrong.

"Rosette? What's the matter?" Rosette hesitated before answering.

"Beth... do you know what your dream is?"

This was serious.

"I want to be a doctor," Beth said softly, "I want to help people."

_I want to help people..._

Rosette suddenly lit up, and gave Beth a huge hug.

"Thanks Beth! You really helped me!" Rosette opened her front door, seeming to be talking to herself, "yeah! That's right! You'll bet I'll be ready tomorrow!" With a last quick wave, she shut the door, racing up to her room. Beth stood bewildered at the door step, shaking her head.

*

*

*

_-Washington D.C. _Rosette looked down at all the adresses and numbers she'd put in her contact book, wondering which one to pick. Some of them sounded way too much for her to handle, like the F.B.I. the C.I.A., but she really didn't care.

_May as well pick after I've done some research,_ she thought, crawling into bed. _Then I can focus on one goal._

'I want to help people', Beth had said, and with those words, Rosette realised that as well. She wanted to help people.

But how? The army; too much discipline for her. Being in medical; required the research she wasn't going to commit herself to.

She'd decided on joining an organisation, an agency or something. There were jobs in that, solving cases and all that? Getting dirt on bad guys then flushing them out? Or just rushing in with guns blazing and your mind set on a task of saving others?

Sounded like her kind of thing.

**Okay, I'm happy this chapter's over, but I'm kinda stuck on the next one, it'll be hard going from a happy Rosette one to a darker Chrno one.**

**Oh well, and thanks again to Whispering Lotus, my lovely reviewer!**

**Lupiesden.**


	6. Run Away

**School's Out for the Winter. Thank God for Alice Cooper, this song prompted me to get writing, well everyone knows to replace winter with Summer right? And yes, it's not for the whole winter, but still, it got me going. **

**Ironically, I just went _back_ to school. =( **

**Ahh well, enjoy!**

The bells rung at their seeming loudest. Ecstatic seniors left their desks behind in the dust, dumping books away and racing out into the sunshine, their hearts singing the praises of Christmas break. Snow hadn't yet fallen, which was strange for this time of year, but nothing could dampen the spirits of the students of New York.

Chrno envied them.

Hearts light from the idea of a week's freedom from classes. A week full of anything but study. Joyful thoughts of Christmas; of family and friends. Light hearts, joyful minds.

Envy wasn't a strong enough word, or maybe even not the right one. He certainly felt something like that when he travelled the streets of New York, listening and watching. Noticing smiles and hearing laughter, things that always stand out.

Happiness.

Did, did he even _remember_ what it felt like?

He'd searched his heart many a time, but he couldn't find a scrap. And every year, at the end of March, he'd feel as if freezing water had scoured his veins, running through him, and leaving nothing behind. Nothing but memories.

Memories that visited every time he'd finally chosen to fall asleep.

_Golden hair, blue eyes, kindness, kindness for others, for brothers. Brother lost and found, lost and found by devils and angels. 4 years, longer than fifty before. Showdown, blood, blood, blood, death, death, death. Miracle. The end of the world. Or the saving of it. Finality, the end._

Of everything.

The ground outside was covered in dirty frost; not quite snow, but a slippery layer that only made Chrno more depressed than no ice at all. He'd woken very suddenly, curled up in front of the empty fireplace, some papers lying round him. Sitting up, he had blinked as hard as he could, trying to banish images that were burned into his eyelids. It hadn't worked, and he could still see the worst images of all, ones of blood and Rosette as one.

He'd run. Literally.

Rosette had always run, always. Running forward.

_Run, Chrno, run, _he told himself as he flew down the ice-covered paths, leaving his house and The Backwash behind, sprinting into familiar suburbs and parks, not stopping. Not yet.

He did this every time, every time sleep befell him, letting those memories he'd suppressed, oh how he'd suppressed, flow into his vision. He'd always jerk out of sleep, quivering and shaking as his fear shot up from that covered part of is heart. Which he'd then need to cover again with actions completely indifferent to his emotions. So as every step slowed his beating to a normal pace, he always shook his feelings away, tossing them back into the dark.

_How they'd laugh,_ he thought bitterly, slowing as he came to a quiet park, _how those people would laugh if they discovered my fear._

Despondent, and feeling dreadfully, but at the same time wonderfully, empty, he dumped himself on one of the swings, its chains creaky from cold. He sighed, watching the puff of his breath as it chilled on the air. There was silence. The first rays of dawn had just reached New York, blue-grey light seeping over the buildings, soon to be joined by the sun. There was no breeze, none at all. Just silence. Just Chrno.

Like it'd been for too long.

Chrno didn't know how long he sat there. Eventually, as early morning joggers began to pass, he decided he'd better get moving. It was unwise to stay in one place for too long, and he had no reason to be out in the open. He had no jobs, no leads, nothing.

He was at a loss. At least with a job, he'd be occupied, and there'd be the chance for new information, renewed hope. _Please,_ Chrno implored to no-one in particular, _something, anything._

If it passed as a prayer, it was answered.

A shot, not a block away, rang out into the air. Chrno stood up, detecting the source of the noise. He began to run, down a street where the joggers had stopped, and slowing as he came upon a small house. He jumped the fence, slowly edging around the side, hearing footsteps close to the front of the house. There were two talking, in fast, afraid voices. But Chrno could tell from their aggressive tones that they had broken in. He suddenly stiffened, finding one of the joggers from the road next to him, sidling up next to him. She had a gun in her hand, but it was pointed at the ground. Chrno realised he hadn't felt her approach because she wasn't a threat, and was relieved it just wasn't his instincts failing him.

She had to leave, it was so easy for her to get shot here, and he didn't want unnecessary attention, or a death for that matter. He opened his mouth to tell her when she interrupted immediately.

"So," she said, "we take the front?"

Surprised at her readiness, Chrno took a second to study her. She had straight black hair pulled into a ponytail, a neon orange cap on her head. She seemed to have a Middle Eastern appearance, and her face was in a set look, her eyes alert and wary. A Star of David necklace had slipped out of her shirt, and she carefully put it back before staring Chrno right in his crimson eyes.

"What's the matter?" she asked impatiently, "never seen a woman fighting before?"

That statement struck Chrno to his core, and he quickly put a lock on the surge of thoughts rising to the surface of his mind. The woman was giving him a strange look, and Chrno suddenly realised by the look in her eyes that she'd done this a hundred times before. He nodded, straining his ears. The criminals, as he labeled them, were moving to the back of the house.

"They're at the back," he told her. She stayed still for a moment, then nodded.

"Then we head there," she said, "I'll take the right side." She scrutinised him, noticing his lack of weapon.

"Where's your gun?" she asked.

"I don't have one."

"What?" There was a sudden scream and another gun firing. The woman shook her head dismissively.

"Are you ready anyway?" she asked.

"Yes."

She nodded, then raced off around the house, almost silently speeding over the gravel and ice. Chrno readied himself and quickly moved through the plants on the left side of the house. He could hear louder voices now, and sirens in the distance. Of course someone called the police. There was a shooting.

By the time he'd reached the back door, his companion had positioned herself just behind a wall. He listened, hearing them thumping down stairs, heading towards the door right next to Chrno. He backed up slightly, motioning to the woman. She settled into a ready position, and Chrno was reminded of the agencies that helped the police from time to time, with their tactics and training. He had a feeling she was a part of one.

He had no more time for musing as two heavyset men burst out from the backdoor, slamming it on its hinges and brandishing guns. They halted for a moment at the sight of an unarmed man waiting for them, then pointed their guns at him, firing without a thought.

He flew away from their shots, he knew it was stupid to so blatantly use his enhanced abilities in front of a human fighting with him, but it was better than getting shot and explaining why he healed instantly. The woman was stunned for a moment, but she moved in almost immediately, pointing her gun with experienced aim.

"Federal Agents!" she roared at the bewildered men, "drop your weapons!" The men didn't comply spinning around to meet their knew target. Chrno flew at them, knocking them over instantly, while the woman kicked away a gun and pointed hers at one of their head's.

"I said, drop your weapons! You're under arrest!"

One of the men, a hulking thug, lashed out at his attackers, ignoring a gun and deadly fighting skills. Chrno and his companion fought back, resisting the urge to just shoot them. The brute tackled the woman, going for her gun. She fought back expertly, but a flailing hand from Chrno's target caught her off-guard, knocking her gun away. It landed in a bush, too far away for her to pick it up. She punched the guy she was grappling with in the head. He fell, knocked out, onto the pavement. She glanced up, only to see the gun at Chrno's head, the other man about to fire.

"No!" she cried. Suddenly she was aware of the fact that the guy could shoot Chrno at any moment.

_Don't worry,_ Chrno was screaming in his head, _it won't hurt me._ But what could he say? The criminal grinned.

"Get on the ground," he said.

Chrno was at a loss. He should've just killed the men when he first got to the house, then left. No woman, no confrontation. He watched as the jogger turned Federal Agent lowered herself to the ground, her eyes down. He could hear her heart beating faster.

But, it was not from fear.

_What...? _Chrno wondered, just before her hand flew to her waist, fingers wrapping around the hilt of a knife concealed there. It was a lightning movement, and the brute holding him only had time for his eyes to widen in shock before he was dead, a knife sticking out of his chest.

"Rule number 9," she said softly to herself, crouching to examine the dead man. That's the last Chrno heard, before he fled, hearing cars and trucks parking in front of the house.

_Run, Chrno, run._

**Okay that's it for this chapter, hope you liked it! I wrote the thing pretty slowly, I wanted it to go to plan, heh.**

**Can you guess who Chrno's mysterious (not) helper is? Not an OC of mine, that's for sure.**

**Well, till next time,**

**Lupiesden.**


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